


The Slightest Smile

by PumpkinLily



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Feelings, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, My First Smut, Smut, Sort Of, That Infamous Jazz Party, smut and feelings, they're not that drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22463182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinLily/pseuds/PumpkinLily
Summary: But Roger doesn’t run away. Instead, one of his hands joins the one resting on his face, lightly pressing it. Freddie didn’t think the mere fact of feeling Roger’s hand, the rough skin of his fingertips against his own, would be this good.“I don’t know what to do Freddie.” He confesses in a low, vulnerable voice.“Then don’t think. Stay with me.” He whispers, his heart in his throat.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 20
Kudos: 46
Collections: Kink Week Queen & BoRhap.





	The Slightest Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Kink Week! Good luck to everyone who writes!
> 
> I know I'm a bit late, but it's for the first day of Kink Week, inspired by the "Body Language" prompt. I have some other Froger I hope to write for this week, but in the mean time, have a good read!

When they arrive on the right floor, the corridor is completely empty. Like most of the floors, probably. Queen has launched the craziest party for the release of their new album, with enough diverse and colourful entertainments to be remembered even forty years later. Who would be foolish enough to miss it? 

Freddie, apparently. Not John, not Brian, Freddie. The one who insisted the launch party for Jazz should be the most outrageous, who said they should live a little and spare no expense for tonight. Not even one hour and a half after they arrived at the Fairmont, Freddie went to find him – or rather, he slumped on his shoulders, and said he was tired. Roger could have swore he was ready to party until sunrise. 

Granted, they had a concert tonight at the Civic Auditorium, but Freddie had been so excited for this party, it was strange. But he had seemed tired, and not inclined to let go of him until he was back to his room, so Roger had left the party quite reluctantly to help him arrive there safe and sound. 

The sound of their footsteps on the carpet is the only thing disturbing the silence in the corridor. Fortunately, they don’t have to walk a lot to get to Freddie’s room, because he’s starting to weight on him a bit, clingy like he is. Which is also strange, because when Roger saw him earlier this night he hadn’t seem drunk to the point of having trouble walking in a straight line. Then again it’s not like expensive alcohol isn’t flowing tonight, and he’s here to have a night of fun and having Freddie complaining is the last thing he wants, so he doesn’t mind holding him. 

“The keys, Freddie.” He asks when they arrive in front of the room.

Freddie keeps his arm around him, and lazily searches in his pants pocket with his left hand. Eventually he finds them, and places them in his free hand. His fingers linger against his own for a second, probably for too long not to be intentional, but Roger doesn’t think anything of that. 

He opens the door, and switches on the lights. “Alright, here we are.” 

After a few seconds, Freddie still has his arm around his waist, so the drummer lightly taps his back, and the singer seems to understand Roger wants him to let go of him, as he slowly moves away and walks towards the large bed. He has a vacant look on his face, vaguely directed at the cushions, and doesn’t say a word. 

The silence is getting awkward, and Roger thinks this is a good time to leave him. He fulfilled his mission of bringing his friend back to his room, and he doesn’t intend to miss the party for any longer. “Well, I’m going now. Good night Fred.”

Not wanting to wait for an answer, he turns over and steps outside the room. But he doesn’t go very far before feeling a hand around his wrist. Immediately, he looks at Freddie, who now has a more alert look and an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Rog?”

“What?”

Freddie’s smile grows a bit. “Y’know, when I said I was tired, I kinda lied.”

Roger frowns, and moves closer to his friend. “Okay, just… What the hell do you want Freddie?”

He stays silent, but his cheeks redden lightly, and Roger doesn’t react as he slowly places his hand on his waist. He feels the warmth of his fingers through his shirt, the grip on his wrist lighten slightly, and for a moment, they both stay still, eyes fixed in each other’s. His look is deep, mesmerising, and he can’t remember the last time he really looked at him in the eyes for so long.

He feels his heartbeat accelerate, but he doesn’t really acknowledges it. Freddie breaks eye contact, his brown eyes lower to his lips, and it’s only now that Roger realises what’s probably going to happen if he doesn’t move. 

And he doesn’t move. Maybe it’s the alcohol controlling him. Maybe it’s something else.

He feels warm lips devoid of make-up against his own, an uncharacteristically flat chest pressed against him, and his brain finally takes the helm. 

He brusquely pushes his friend away, and their looks meet again. The surprise in Freddie’s eyes quickly transforms into sadness, and he lifts his hand off his waist. He stops gripping his wrist, and his fingers linger on his skin for a second, not wanting to let go, before curling up and joining the side of his body.

Everything makes sense now. This is why Freddie said he was tired, insisted he accompanied him back to his room, why he wanted to touch his hand when he gave him the keys-

“Sorry.” He whispers, looking away from him.

Several thoughts bash into each other inside his head. Is there anything else other than these acts that could’ve helped him predict this? Should he say something- of course he should say something but what can he even say- was it just the alcohol and maybe drugs controlling him, or was there something more- 

_‘That’s not important.’_ A part of him screams above all the other thoughts. _‘Either you leave this fucking room, or you do **something**.’_

“Freddie.” He pronounces with an uncertain voice, still not having a single clue about what he should say next.

His friend looks back at him, sheepish, and there’s a light frown on his face, as if he was wondering why Roger hadn’t left already. 

The drummer waits for something clever, sensible or anything that could help ease the situation to come to his mind. But nothing comes.

“If… If you don’t want…” Freddie’s voice is shy, vulnerable, the kind of voice Roger rarely hears from him. “…I mean… Oh, forget it.” He mutters while looking away again.

“Want what?” 

Freddie’s eyes stay on the ground. It looks like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “…If you want…” His lips form a light smile, but there’s no joy in it. “You can stay.”

Roger blinks a few times. The cacophony still reigns in his mind. Or rather, the nothingness of possible answers. And yet he knows he has to say _something_. 

Or he could flee like a coward and run back to alcohol and welcomed distractions. It’s really quite tempting.

But a part of him refuses to do so. A part of him he tried to stiffen for a long time wants nothing but to stay and hold Freddie close and kiss him again-

“Would you like me to?” The words leave his mouth before he can properly think.

Freddie’s eyes snap back at him, wide, and he straightens, his smile replaced by a frown. He looks pissed. “Well why do you think I fucking kissed you?!” 

Roger’s eyes widen, taken aback by his tone.

It must’ve come harsher than wanted, because his friend’s expression quickly softens and he now looks apologetic. “Sorry.” 

“’S alright.” 

This is now that his brain focuses on what Freddie really said, or rather implied. Sure, he’s probably drunk, and he himself is probably drunk too, but his reaction… Maybe alcohol only gave him the impulse to act- maybe he thought the party would be an opportunity to spend the night with him-

_‘He wants to fuck you!!’_

“Roger?”

Freddie’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He focuses back on his friend, who’s looking at him with a bit of concern in his soft eyes. But all he can think about is the fact Freddie wants to have sex with him, and there’s a million thoughts clashing in his head but he’s way too drunk to want to think and _Freddie-_

His brain turns off. 

Freddie frowns, wondering what Roger’s thinking, or if he’s even thinking, behind his vacant look. He’s about to call his name again when Roger steps back inside the room, grabs his braces and pulls him towards him.

A surprised cry escapes his throat before he feels lips against his own, the taste of alcohol and a warm tongue in his mouth.

He doesn’t know why Roger has stopped thinking, but his brain decides to do the same and enjoy the precious moment.

His tongue quickly finds Roger’s and a whirlwind of passion and excitement passes through his body as they explore each other’s mouths. His hands find his friend’s waist, holding him close, caressing his sides, but they quickly slip under his shirt and the contact of his fingers on his skin is very pleasant. 

At one point he suddenly feels the wall against his back, but there are more important things going on the front, like the fact his braces slipped off and Roger has started to caress his chest, his fingers constantly running over his nipples, causing a few moans to escape his mouth between two swirls of tongue. 

Roger’s pants are too tight for his fingers to easily slip inside, so his fingers slid until he finds his belt buckle, and he’s halfway into taking it off when Roger presses himself against him further, and another wave of warmth and excitement flows through him. He’d imagined many times them snogging like this, but actually feeling his erection against his own while Roger’s hands are curling around his buttocks was better than any fantasy.

The kiss gets slower, and he realises he’s out of breath. So is Roger, who lets out a last sigh against his lips before he slightly leans away, just enough to be able to breath.

They’re still very close, looks fixed in each other’s as the silence gradually comes back in the room, only disturbed by their breathes and the sound of his heart pounding against his chest.

As if his face wasn’t burning already, Freddie feels his cheeks getting even warmer. Fuck, it’s one thing to look at Roger’s beautiful, mesmerising eyes when he only has a hand on his waist and his wrist, but feeling his gaze on him now, when they’re both hard and pressed so tightly against each other makes him feel dizzy. 

Roger blinks a few times, and he feels him stiffen against him. Freddie doesn’t dare moving, in fear of leaving the moment in tatters. It dangerously looks like the drummer’s having second thoughts and the last thing he wants is to see him run away. 

“Rog.” His voice is low, pleading.

“Freddie?”

“Please.” Unconsciously, one of his hands leaves Roger’s belt, and slowly, not to browbeat him, gently cups his redden cheek. “Don’t leave.” 

He doesn’t answer, which starts to worry him. Then, he doesn’t feel the warmth of his hands on his body anymore. 

His breath hitches in his throat, and he braces himself for what is about to come.

But Roger doesn’t run away. Instead, one of his hands joins the one resting on his face, lightly pressing it. Freddie didn’t think the mere fact of feeling Roger’s hand, the rough skin of his fingertips against his own, would be this good.

“I don’t know what to do Freddie.” He confesses in a low, vulnerable voice.

“Then don’t think. Stay with me.” He whispers, his heart in his throat.

He didn’t think his little smokescreen of pretending to be tired would lead them as far away as that. He’d been certain most of the reactions he’d get from Roger would only bring heartbreak and disillusions, but the more he thought about it, the more he drank, and the less he cared about the low probability of not drowning his despair in alcohol or wilder partying tonight. Fuck, since this party was supposed to be extravagant, he might as well live up to his reputation, and be crazy enough to take a chance with Roger and see what happens. 

He didn’t even think it would lead them somewhere. But it worked. How, why, what got Roger into kissing him back, he doesn’t know, but now that he unexpectedly got his little moment of passion and happiness, he wants to make it last as much as possible. 

“Roger.”

Roger continues to look at him in silence, lips squirming, uncertainty visible on his face. For a moment, neither of them says a word.

Then, after what seems like an eternity, Freddie feels a warm hand on his waist. He doesn’t have the time to notice much more before his friend leans forwards and kisses him again. 

The kiss doesn’t last long, but it’s incredibly soft and leaves Freddie with a few light butterflies in his stomach. Roger’s look is now resolute, kind, his expression more relaxed.

_‘Fuck this.’_

He was most probably going to end up in someone's bed tonight anyway, he might as well forget the girls and spend the moment with someone who really matters. Who knows if he’ll have another opportunity?

He doesn’t notice Freddie looking on the side before sharing another kiss with him. He feels a hand against his chest, and suddenly he’s gently pushed away after only a few seconds.

“We should close the door.” Freddie suggests before he has the time to be confused.  
Right. The door. He completely forgot. It stayed open this whole time. Granted, they have a good space on the current floor booked for them, and everyone except them must still be partying in the ballroom, but still. 

Roger briefly entangles himself from his friend to close and lock the door, and places the keys on the nearest support. But he barely has turned around to join Freddie back near the wall than he finds himself engulfed in a warm hug. The gentle kiss he receives on the neck hardly distracts him from the fact he’s still hard and so is Freddie, tightly pressed against him again. His hands then shift to his belt, not completely undone, and when he swiftly passes his fingers against his crotch, Roger’s breath hitches, and he can feel Freddie smile against his neck, before he repeats the gesture.

Freddie’s way too good with his fingers. “Was that y-your plan?” He asks as another tingle of excitement runs through him.

“’Don’t know.” The words tickle his ear. “I had no plan.”

 _‘Typical.’_ Not that he’s not the kind of person to rush headlong when he has an idea in mind himself. No wonder they get along so well.

The series of sweet kisses on his neck and swift but well-places touches continue as Freddie finishes undoing his belt. He eventually manages to take it off completely, and throws it on the floor. Roger keeps his hands on his waist as he takes care of the button of his jeans and his zip. Delicate fingers then slid in his underwear, and a louder sigh escapes his mouth.

“C’mon.”

Freddie giggles against his ear. “You sound desperate.”

He grips his waist tighter. “I’m not!” A thrust of his hips follows, and he feels betrayed. “…Freddie.” He sounds horribly pleading. A more distinct melodic laugh tickles his ear. 

“You’re a treasure Rog.” 

The heartfelt words make his cheeks grow a bit warmer. Then Freddie sinks to his knees, and Roger inhales sharply as a wet heat engulfs the head of his cock. He feels reassuring hands on both sides of this hips, and places his own hands on them, pressing them tight. 

He rests his head against the wall, eyes closed. Is this what Freddie had in mind when he assured once that men gave the best blowjobs? 

In any case, with the moans he manages to draw out of him with expert swirls of tongue, and the way he’s gradually taking more of him in his mouth, he’s certainly not entirely wrong. He’s really good at this. 

Had he planned to prove it in person one day? Maybe not, but now Roger’s mind can’t not think he never considered it and it turns him on even more.

Moans and occasional high-pitched murmurs of “Freddie” continue to fill the room for a moment, but just when Roger starts to feel fire pooling low in his abdomen, the singer takes him out of his mouth. He immediately opens his eyes and looks down to express his disappointment, but he’s greeted with the very erotic picture of his friend on his knees before him, a trail of saliva going down his chin, lips swollen and redden forming a self-satisfied grin. His look is fixed in Roger’s, mischievous and bright, and his words die in his throat while his cock twitches to manifest its approval. 

Freddie laughs, and shows his teeth for a second. “’Told you so.”

“What?”

He starts gently rubbing his thumbs against Roger’s. “About men giving the best head.”

Of course he’s also been thinking of that. Smartarse. “Whatever.”

He chuckles and gets back on his feet, their bodies now very close but not pressed against each other’s. He has intertwined their fingers together, and nuzzles into his neck, pressing a few kisses below his ear. “C’mon Rog. Don’t tell me that’s all.” 

Of course that’s not all, he still has his fucking boner-

So does Freddie, he realises. His tone was playful, but he feels like there was something else behind his question. As if he was asking for some pleasure in return. Roger’s certainly not going to refuse him that, as inexperienced with men as he is.

“You’re right.” He says in a little smile.

He entangles his hands from Freddie’s, and grips his waist tightly. In a swift movement, he lifts him, using his shoulder as a support to help him, and Freddie doesn’t have the time to say anything that Roger has climbed on the bed and gently placed him on the soft cover. 

He positions himself above him, caressing his cheek with one hand, his look is fixed in Freddie’s. He never really takes the time to admire his conquests’ eyes before starting the fun, but with Freddie, it’s different. He has very beautiful eyes, sure, but it’s also because the singer’s not like his conquests. 

He’s… his best friend is how he would introduce him to most people, but here, in the intimacy of this room, with what he just did and what he’s about to do, as mushy as it sounds, he knows he wouldn’t be true to his heart if he only called him his best friend. 

“Roger?”

But he has no plans to tell him. Not now, maybe not ever. He’s certain it wouldn’t do any good. The fact he’s in this very room, about to have sex with him, is already a sort of miracle. He doesn’t want to think too much about what he feels, about what Freddie might feel, about what they’re doing here.

He’s always been better at showing his affection with gestures rather than words anyway, and this is why he decides to stay silent, and places his lips on Freddie’s.

The singer melts into the kiss, slow but intense nonetheless. He feels Roger’s hands on his chest, warm and gentle as he unbuttons his shirt. The task is quickly done, and moans escape his lips as one hand focuses on caressing his chest, circling a nipple, while another hand takes care of his tight pants. Between two swirls of tongue, he lets out a sigh when the pressure of the button and zip finally disappears and Roger starts stroking his cock. They both fumble to peel his decidedly very tight pants off his legs, and his shirt as well as the rest of his clothes are discarded along the way.

Another mix of hands and fingers work on removing Roger’s clothes as the heated kiss and caresses continue, until every piece is on the floor. As much as they wish they had infinite breath, they don’t, and eventually part with each other, mutually gazing into the eyes as the heavy breathes subside.

A spontaneous smile appears on Freddie’s flushed face. He’s happy to see Roger smile in return, such a gentle expression on his face he feels something warm and pleasant bubbling inside him. He feels a hand with rougher skin resting on this own, and intertwines their fingers together. 

He closes his eyes as Roger places kisses on the side of his neck, his free hand briefly focusing on his chest again before travelling across his body, leaving a burning trail until his fingers curl around his cock. Each flick of his hand feels just right, causing louder moans and sending delicious sparkles of pleasure down his spine. Among the harsh breaths and high-pitched sounds escaping his mouth, the name of Roger becomes more and more distinct as he feels a tangle of electricity building in his abdomen.

Freddie hears raspy words close to his ears, a mix of curses and his own name, and Roger lowers himself enough until they feel their cocks rubbing against each other. The grip of their hands tighten and louder moans fill the room. Freddie rests his free hand on Roger’s back, nails digging in his skin as he feels a pair of rough fingertips around his nipple again, the contact so pleasant and burning.

White light flashes behind his eyelids, and he feels himself pulsing one last time against Roger as they come together, both their cries resonating in the room.

For a moment, neither of them moves, hands still locked in each other’s as they slowly catch their breaths. Eventually, Freddie feels the weight of Roger’s body disappear, and he opens his eyes again. He can only see the ceiling, but he hears some noises coming from the bathroom, and sits up, feeling absolutely drained.

A smile grows on his face, and he lets out a shaky breath. He just had sex with Roger. It seems unreal, and yet, somehow, it happened. He can’t believe he managed to get what he hoped for.

_‘What now?’_

His smile vanishes. It hits him like a slap in the face.

…

…Yeah sure, he got what he hoped for, but what he is going to do now?

It’s not as if things were going to change, as if he could confess his love to Roger and they could get together right on the spot. He has a boyfriend, Roger has a girlfriend, and even if for some reason he accepted to have sex with him it- it’s most probably never going to happen again-

“Freddie?”

He raises his head. Roger has sit on the bed, a towel in his hands, a bit of concern in his eyes. 

“’You alright?”

He wants to laugh, but doesn’t have the strength, and only a sad smile appears on his face. “It’s nothing dear.” 

No need to bother his friend with that. He’s the idiot here. He knew what could happen, even if he didn’t want to think about it. It’s not as if there was a chance-

Softly, Roger passes the towel on his forehead and the rest of his face. His look is attentive, gentle, and when their eyes meet again, he stops moving, his hand resting between his cheek and his jaw. A part of Freddie tells him he shouldn’t take the time to gaze at him, it’s only going to hurt more, but he doesn’t want to listen.

Roger also keeps his eyes on him, lips pressed together, and the pressure of his fingers on his face lightly increases. Slowly, he leans towards him; Freddie would have the time to stop him from going closer, but he stays still, closes his eyes, and their lips meet in a soft kiss with a singular taste. Roger’s other hand comes to rest on his cheek, and he feels the caress of his fingertips, slow, unhurried. Maybe he also wants the moment to last as much as possible.

In this moment of intimacy, one they may never experience again, Freddie thinks very hard about the words he wishes to confess.

The kiss is brief, has an aftertaste of not enough, and Roger’s warm smile when they look at each other again can’t make his pain disappear, but it does make his heart a bit less heavy. 

In silence, Freddie watches him removing with care the stains on his lower body, before cleaning himself more hastily. 

“Thank you.” He says in a soft, affectionate voice.

His smile grows a bit wider. “You’re welcome.” He discards the towel and picks up their clothes. “Ready to party until sunrise?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to dear? I have a reputation to protect.” He gets up and stretches out, gathering his energy for the rest of the night. “Now if you could be so kind and give me my clothes…”

Whether it is an accident or not, Roger throws him his underwear in the face, which starts with an indignant cry and leads to threats of redecorating his precious car with a compactor. The banter continues as they leave the room, smiles on their faces, hearts filled with certain feelings of which no one could predict the development.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I write explicit smut. Please let me know what you think about it, and if you have some advice or anything, I'll be happy to listen.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it :) Don't hesitate to leave kudos and a comment, they're always appreciated.


End file.
